


Shadows on the Sea

by KChan88



Series: Sailing By Orion's Star: Deleted Scenes [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KChan88/pseuds/KChan88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shadows of their respective awful grandfathers hanging over them, Enjolras and Marius talk, and get to know each other better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows on the Sea

**The Caribbean Sea. 1714.**

Enjolras picks up the newspaper off his desk, eyes running over the headline on the front page.

_Baron Andrew Travers, King of East India in the Caribbean._

He runs his fingers over his left forearm; sometimes when he looks down he still sees the bruise shaped like finger tips spread across his skin, as if even here, even now, his grandfather still won’t let go of him.

_Former royal governor of Jamaica expanded the fleet of British East India Trading Company ships in the Kingston harbor…_

He places the paper on his desk at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he calls out, and the door opens, revealing Marius, ship’s books in hand.

“Is this a bad time?” Marius asks, clearly sensing the tension in the atmosphere, nearly tripping over a dip in the wood and catching the book before it falls, blushing as he looks up.

“No, it’s all right,” Enjolras says, offering a quick smile, and gesturing at Marius to sit down in the chair opposite him.

Marius gazes around the room a moment, grinning when he sees Courfeyrac’s messy bedcovers juxtaposed with his extra shirts folded pristinely beneath in a chest.

“Courfeyrac is so particular about his shirts,” Marius comments. “No matter that they’re damp with seawater half the time.”

Enjolras chuckles, earning a slightly nervous one from Marius in return; though he’s been sailing with them for some time and feels comfortable with Courfeyrac and obviously Cosette, Enjolras can never quite gain the right footing with Marius. He’s an excellent bookkeeper and a quick study with sailing, but there’s always an awkwardness between them, and Enjolras sometimes thinks Marius feels well, _frightened_ of him.

“Everything settled with the books?” Enjolras asks.

“Just fine,” Marius says, opening it and pointing to his new entries. “Not too much to add. MacMillan, Scott, and Sullivan are due injury payments, but otherwise it was a fairly clean outcome, since they surrendered quickly after the fighting began. I made note of the earnings in the column here and the correct shares here,” Marius says, pointing to the specific lines.

“Thank you,” Enjolras says. “I’m afraid I don’t say it enough, but I’m always grateful for the work you do, Marius. It’s crucial to our efforts. The necessity of making sure the men who need them get their injury payments, the even division of shares and knowing the money we have so that we can choose our targets as well as keep track of what we have to give away. It’s a vital piece of the democratic way of things we’re keeping to.”

“Oh,” Marius says, reddening again and pushing a stray piece of black hair out of his eyes, but Enjolras sees a happy twinkle within them. “Thank you. I’m glad to know my work is useful.”

“Very,” Enjolras adds, removing his hat and setting it aside on his desk.

Silence fills the space between them, and Enjolras watches Marius’ eyes fall on the newspaper.

“Oh,” he says, reading the words, a look of surprise passing across his face. “Is this an article about your grandfather?”

Enjolras hesitates, grasping his own forearm again absentmindedly.

“It is,” he says. “Something about striking some sort of new deal with the British government about regulations. He’s purchased even more of the fleet in the Caribbean, apparently. He owned nearly a quarter of the East India ships in this region as it was.”

“Was he an East India officer himself?” Marius asks, understanding in his expression, fingers curling into a loose fist atop the desk.

“Never a captain,” Enjolras answers. “But as a young man he saw East India flourishing and poured money into the company, purchased ships so he might structure the crews as he saw fit and gain profits. He did end up sailing a great deal because of it. Why he needs the profits I’m not certain, given he was an only son, and of the nobility. But he was always looking for more power.”

Enjolras feels that familiar nausea creeping into his stomach at the thought of his grandfather, faded with time and with distance, but still never completely evaporated.

“I know he was…unkind to you,” Marius says, sounding nervous and uncertain if he should broach the topic. “Courfeyrac has mentioned it, and Cosette. I hope I’m not overstepping…”

“No,” Enjolras says. “It’s all right. It’s common knowledge in the inner circles of our crews. The things he did to me, to Frantz, I can never forget them. I would like to, but I know it’s a part of what drives me, fighting against the things he upholds.”

“I understand that,” Marius says, giving him a sad smile, and Enjolras hears the sincerity in his words. “My grandfather didn’t often grow _too_ harshly physical,” Marius says, pushing down on the words. “A few slaps here and there. But I was so alone growing up, and he was so strict, giving his love only when he saw fit like it was a prize I had to win, but only by his rules. And when I found out he kept me separated from my father I…I couldn’t forgive him. I still haven’t even though I know that’s what they say you should do.”

“So they do,” Enjolras says. “But I admit, I have not forgiven my grandfather. I don’t know that I can, so we are the same in that. I think perhaps forgiveness requires that one earns it, rather than being freely given.”

Marius nods, and Enjolras feels a connection forming between them, solid and stable, no longer nebulous and unsure.

“Perhaps so,” Marius says. “Sometimes…well at first, even when I started following the abolitionist movement, I couldn’t have dreamed of being a pirate because I believed the stories the papers told. But then I met all of you, and I realized…I realized that perhaps even if I couldn’t change the things my grandfather did, the way he treated the slaves on his plantation, the fact that he had slaves at all, I could still atone, somehow. For the things he did. And then, well. I realized how much I believed in what I was doing. In what all of you were doing.”

At this, Enjolras reaches out, hesitant for a second before clasping Marius’ arm. Marius smiles at him again, clasping Enjolras’ arm in return.

“Would you like to come up on deck with me and perhaps take over the helm for a little while?” Enjolras asks. “I could teach you some things about steering the ship.”

“I’d like that,” Marius says, rising from his chair. “Though I can’t promise I’ll possess much talent for it.”

“Well,” Enjolras says, chuckling. “It’s good to possess a basic knowledge in any case. We all have our different strengths that contribute to the cause, after all. It wouldn’t be useful if we were all the same.”

Marius laughs in return, patting him on the back as they walk on deck, awkward but genuine. And after a few minutes as Combeferre joins them at the helm, the newspaper article, at least for the time being, disappears from Enjolras’ thoughts.


End file.
